


Only We Know

by chalicedflowers



Series: 2013 multifandom trope bingo [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courfeyrac means well, Enjolras is jealous, Fluff, Grantaire just likes making friends, M/M, Matchmaking, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:59:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalicedflowers/pseuds/chalicedflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras are secretly dating. Courfeyrac seems to think this would be the best time to play matchmaker for Grantaire. Enjolras doesn't exactly agree.</p><p>Written for Zoop's 2013 multifandom trope bingo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

> This was written pretty quickly, I apologize for any mistakes I may have made!
> 
> This is for Secret Relationships in Zoop's multifandom trope bingo

The change in Grantaire was gradual, and it took a while for les amis to notice. He had stopped drinking so much, no longer downing a bottle of wine over the course of a meeting (or a bottle of absinthe, if he and Enjolras had a particularly vicious fight that day). He started smiling more, bright, happy things that caught on infectiously and transformed his face into a thing of beauty. He began to draw again. Little doodles at first, heavily stylized images of his friends caught during meetings— Bahorel’s flirty grin whenever he ordered a drink from a pretty bartender, Jehan’s dimple that only showed when he was truly happy, even Courfeyrac’s pout when he was told that glitter was not in the club’s budget (and Combeferre’s small smile when he allocated a small amount for said glitter). Then it branched out into more detailed sketches and more technical approaches. He started to paint, abstract and impressionist and anything he could think of. Jehan, as the only one of les amis who had known Grantaire before he was consumed by his alcoholism and cynicism, assured the others that this was a very good sign.

“He’s not pining anymore,” he said, a small smile on his face as he watched Grantaire over at the bar, laughing casually with the bartender. 

Enjolras had changed too, perhaps reacting to Grantaire’s improved state of mind. He challenged the other man less, more prone to intelligent debate rather than an emotional battle of wills. Their passion remained the same, both had the fiery burn of conviction in their eyes, but there was an undercurrent of amiability to their words. Les amis had noticed, and they all appreciated the decrease in tension during the meetings. 

 

Courfeyrac gathered a secret council of amis at his, Enjolras, and Combeferre’s apartment while Enjolras was out, having left with a small smile and quick wave to his roommates who stared back in bewilderment. Enjolras rarely left the apartment except for classes and meetings, and never without either Combeferre or Courfeyrac. They ignored this in favour of their bigger issue (or rather, Courfeyrac decided to ignore it in favour of more interesting matters and Combeferre kept his silence) and the reason for which they had gathered their council. 

Once all of les amis save for Enjolras and Grantaire were scattered around the living room chatting, Courfeyrac clapped his hands and waited for their attention.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you today,” he began. “Our very own Grantaire has finally left behind his life of pining over our fearless leader. I’m sure you all agree this is a wonderful event as Enjolras—no matter how I love him so—is not the best choice of partner. Our mission, should you choose to accept it, is to help him to move on, romantically. And sexually.”

The others nodded their agreement, some more confident than others. Combeferre, in particular, seemed discomfited by the whole notion. Meddling in his friends lives often seemed to turn out rather negatively.

“There’s a guy at the gym Grantaire and I box at who seems kind of into him,” Bahorel offered.

“Or my co-worker at the bookstore,” Jehan said. “He’s very artistic, they might get along.”

“Perfect,” said Courfeyrac. “Bring them to a meeting sometime.”

Les amis burst into a chatter, discussing their various acquaintances who might be a good fit for Grantaire, squabbling goodnaturedly over the various talents and traits of their possible matches. Courfeyrac observed them happily, pleased that everyone seemed as eager to make their friend happy as he was. Combeferre, however, slid over to Courfeyrac and gently grabbed his arm.

“Do you really think this is the best thing for Grantaire?”

Courfeyrac’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t even know if Grantaire is really over Enjolras. Have you spoken to him about this?”

Courfeyrac waved his hand airily, unconcerned. “If Grantaire weren’t over Enjolras he would still be pining away.” Combeferre looked unconvinced, and Courfeyrac’s expression turned unusually serious. “Look, Grantaire is one of my best friends. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t things we just don’t talk about though, and Enjolras is one of those things. I’ve seen Grantaire fall apart over Enjolras, and it kills me to not talk about it with him but that’s what he wants. He’s happy now, and that’s all I’ve wanted for him. Despite how much I love him, I know Enjolras could never make Grantaire happy, he’s just not wired the right way to give Grantaire what he needs. If Grantaire is happy, then it’s because he’s let go of the dreams he had pinned on Enjolras.”

“But do you think that throwing people at Grantaire is going to make him happier?”

“It’s worth a try,” Courfeyrac said, a sad smile twisting his mouth.

Combeferre nods, trying to ignore the growing worry he feels gnawing in his stomach. He leaves his friends, returning to the blessed silence of his darkened room, and tries to forget the secret smile he saw on Enjolras’ face.

 

Over the next few weeks, Grantaire was inundated with men and women at meetings, all of whom showed unprecedented interest in him. The first was Jehan’s co-worker, a tall, willowy brunet who had a lingering smell of old books and cigarettes and who drew Grantaire into a deep discussion on fauvism and its influence on art in the 20th century. Grantaire said goodbye to him with a flushed face and new inspiration for his art, but without any serious romantic connection. 

(Enjolras ended the meeting early that day, and left without a word.)

Joly brought the next person, a small doctor with brown eyes and a bright smile. She introduced herself as Aisha and talked about her job as a paediatrician. By the end of the evening Grantaire had agreed to visit the children and read to them, as well as paint a mural on the wall of the playroom in the ward. They exchanged phone numbers and les amis crossed their fingers and hope. But when, at the next meeting, he came in with stories of all the children he met and barely a word about Aisha they started to plan again.

(Enjolras was calm that meeting, and he and Grantaire didn’t argue at all.)

Eponine brought one of her father’s connections with her, a wiry man with a shock of bleached hair and electric blue eyes. He was twitchy and uncomfortable, constantly sending Grantaire tight smiles as they talked. Eventually the force of Enjolras’ glare drove him away from the Musain, and Grantaire would be lying if he didn’t say he was a little relieved. 

(That night, Enjolras stood behind Grantaire with his hand firmly clamped on Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire tried to sink into the floor.)

The last person to be brought over was Bahorel’s gym buddy, Erik. He walked through the door and les amis stopped. He was tall, taller than Bahorel even, and broad. He had blond hair that fell into his eyes in soft waves, and soft periwinkle eyes. His arms were covered in beautiful, intricate tattoos and his smile was soft and genuine when he saw Grantaire. He was perfect.

He bought Grantaire a drink and brought him slightly further from the group, monopolizing Grantaire’s attention. Enjolras, at the front of the café, found his eyes constantly drawn to the couple. He lost his train of thought whenever he heard Grantaire’s laugh, and found himself trailing off whenever Erik would touch Grantaire’s hand while speaking, or whenever they would lean their heads close together to be able to hear in the noisy café. Eventually Enjolras found himself sitting without knowing how he got there, his eyes fixed intently on Erik and Grantaire, and Courfeyrac improvising a speech in Enjolras’ place.

Erik brushed a strand of hair out of Grantaire’s face and Enjolras shot up, his hands balled into fists. His ears rang and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. His vision narrowed to the couple at the table, and the rest of the world disappeared. He strode over to the table and, ignoring Erik’s protests, leaned down and kissed Grantaire. His hands came up to cup Grantaire’s face, his thumb gently stroking Grantaire’s cheekbone. Grantaire made a muffled noise of surprise but kissed back, his lips moving carefully against Enjolras’ insistent mouth. The kiss was rather chaste but when Enjolras pulled back Grantaire stared at him in shock.

“Get away from my boyfriend,” Enjolras growled at Erik, who pushed his chair back and held up his hands carefully, eyes wide.

“Hey man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was your boyfriend, I thought he was single.” Erik stood up and smiled at Grantaire again, a twist of sadness at the corner of his mouth. “See you Monday, R.”

Everybody watched Erik leave in silence, turning to look at Enjolras and Grantaire as soon as the bell above the door had stopped chiming. Nobody spoke, too shocked to ask any questions. Enjolras blushed.

“Grantaire and I—we, well… What I mean to say is—”

“We’re dating,” Grantaire said, smiling up at Enjolras with a flush high on his cheeks. “We have been for a few weeks now— at least it’s been official for a few weeks— but we were waiting to tell you in case things didn’t work out.”

Enjolras nodded stiffly, visibly uncomfortable with the attention, so les amis turned back to their own conversations, consciously avoiding the one subject they all wanted to discuss. Enjolras and Grantaire remained at the table for a while longer, heads bent together and hands clasped, talking quietly to each other and les amis couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at the pair every so often. Their quiet profiles, reflected in the dim light of the slowly darkening café, spoke of a casual intimacy borne only from knowing the worst of someone and accepting them anyway. The unrelenting cruelty of one and the infinitesimal despair of the other. But somehow, in their clasped hands they held a promise of repair and forgiveness, and when they leaned together for a soft kiss their harsh edges seemed smoothed by the care of the other. The couple stood, and les amis forcibly dragged their eyes away, waiting to hear the chime of the bell before bursting forth with the excitement they felt.

 

Later, curled up on the sofa with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, a tired Enjolras will thank the pair for showing him how much he really does care for Grantaire.

“If I didn’t see how it would feel to lose him,” he yawned, “I might have let him go.”

And even if it wasn’t how they originally intended to help Grantaire, both Combeferre and Courfeyrac were glad that things worked out the way they did.

“Although,” Courfeyrac whispered to Combeferre once Enjolras fell fully asleep with his head on Courfeyrac’s lap and his feet on Combeferre’s, “do you think Enjolras will skin me if I brought Erik back to a meeting? He looked like some sort of god.”

Combeferre slapped him upside the head and Courfeyrac laughed quietly, pushing his friend’s shoulder gently, careful of Enjolras sleeping between them. It was the three of them on their couch late at night with streetlights shining in, and maybe everything had changed in the group and maybe things between the three would change in the future, but for right now it was just them, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
